


The End of the Line (Happens to be in a Brooklyn Bar)

by boo2ee



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 1940s, 21st Century, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Bars, Drunk Steve Rogers, M/M, Stucky - Freeform, dont know what im doing, im going through shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:53:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29273520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boo2ee/pseuds/boo2ee
Summary: 2011. Captain America walks into a gay bar in Brooklyn, and he can feel the whiskey. He can feel it. He can feel Bucky. Feels the whiskey in his mouth. Down his throat. In his stomach.-Or-2018. Captain America walks into a gay bar in Brooklyn, and he can feel the whiskey. He can feel it. He can feel Bucky. Bucky. Not again.-Or-Steve looks up and around, finding dust flying in the air. Feeling dust in the air, breathing it in. But he doesn't find Bucky.Bucky, lost in Wakanda. When he finally finds his way home, to Brooklyn, it's too late. Steve is already broken. And Bucky is still a coward, still won't go to him.Is this the end of the line? A bar in Brooklyn?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	The End of the Line (Happens to be in a Brooklyn Bar)

/Sometime in the late 30s/

Whiskey was Steve's worst enemy. 

~~Whiskey was Bucky's greatest friend.~~

Bucky was out with friends, out with some girl in his lap. Steve would've liked to imagined Bucky was sitting in his favorite spot at his favorite bar, tracing his name that'd been carved into the wood. He knew that instead, he was sitting in his favorite spot in his favorite bar, drowning in whiskey and women. Bucky was out and Steve was doing their breakfast dishes. He'd been rewashing the same two plates and two forks for hours, waiting. Always waiting. 

Bucky was out with friends, undoubtedly swallowing down whiskey, and so Steve was waiting. Steve was waiting for Bucky to clop up the stairs and shut the door too loudly behind him. He'd whisper "Stevie" or yell "Steve." Or simply slump against Steve. (He always craved Steve, especially drunk.)

Steve would go out too. He would, if Bucky asked, but Bucky was a flirty drunk and Steve was always there. Steve was always willing, and Bucky was always drunk when he asked, and out in public was never a good place to get on your knees. 

Steve was waiting, and soon came clopping footsteps, a quiet shut of the door, and a quiet "Stevie." 

This was their thing. Steve would wait for Bucky. Always. Until the end of the line. 

"There was this beautiful girl tonight Steve. So pretty," Bucky whispered as Steve rushed over to hold him up. "She was so pretty and she looked just like you and..." and this was their thing too. "And she wouldn't kiss me. But you would've, wouldn't you Stevie?"

"Your drunk." 

"Wouldn't you have kissed me? Will you kiss me?"

This was their thing. 

/2011, somewhere in Brooklyn/

"Whiskey, please."

Steve was having dreams. Asthma attacks and trains and bars and whiskey. Always whiskey. Always waiting. 

The nurses had asked him about them, why he couldn't sleep. Nightmares, but he didn't know if he could call them that when Bucky was involved. 

2011 had everything that 1940s Steve could wish for. And anything it didn't have in the day, Steve found at night. He often found himself waking up in the middle of the night with excitement, only to find that the thing pressed against his back was a wall or a pillow. He should have known. Walls are too hard and cold to be anything but walls. 

Even when he woke up in a cold sweat, swearing his muscles were sore from hanging out of _that_ train, he couldn't call it a nightmare. As selfish as it may be, anything involving Bucky Barnes kept him sane. Staring down into a snowy tomb was the last time he'd seen Bucky alive, and Steve couldn't decide how he should regard that memory. Steve didn't know if waking up sweaty and scared was any worse than waking up sweaty and hot and confused. 

"Coming right up."

He was sitting two seats away from the left end of the bar, in Bucky's spot. _Bucky_ carved into the bar, men dancing around him, and the _Bucky_ was his focus as he downed the whiskey. This is what Bucky tasted when he had a girl seducing him. It's funny that _that_ place became _this_. 

One time Steve had came along with him. The women swooned at his best friend, he swooned back, and he was invisible. ("I'm invisible. I'm turning into you.") (Steve realized Bucky hadn't meant that he was invisible to Peggy. Bucky sat and watched as Steve threw his best smile at a pretty girl, and hinted at a date that would never happen, just like Steve had so many times.) When the girls finally gave them some space, Bucky had grabbed his hand, and Steve smiled as he was dragged to the bar, because that was bold. Bucky was _bold_. 

They had sat together in the corner as Bucky's breath started to smell more and more of whiskey, and Bucky had only gotten bolder. And Bucky had carved his name into the bar while the bartender wasn't looking, and he made Steve carve a straight line right under his name. **_Bucky_**. 

And Bucky had only gotten bolder. He wiped Steve's too long hair out of his eyes and laughed too much. Steve told unfunny jokes and Bucky laughed anyway, like he was being paid to laugh. Steve said something unfunny that got Bucky laughing, and Bucky would scoot closer to the edge of his stool, closer to Steve, so Steve kept on. Steve made a joke about their neighbor and Bucky moved his foot to wrap around Steve's ankle. He made a joke about their barber, and Bucky set his hand on his knee. A joke about saving up for a new mattress and Bucky's hand was on his thigh, up his thigh, and there was no pretense of friendliness. A joke about wanting some of whatever Bucky's got...

(Steve could swear it was happening again, could swear there was a voice in his ear)

...got Bucky off the stool. His chest pressed against Steve's back, hand still on his thigh, he whispered, growled, "You don't want this."

"Yes I do," Steve whispered, in sync with the memory. 

Bucky was wrong. He did want this. 

/2018/

"I lost the kid."

"Tony, we lost."

It was a week later when Tony whispered it again, and Steve whispered his line right back, but now they were alone. They were alone and the shock had worn off and Tony was angry, more angry, and he was vocal. 

"What did you lose, Captain? Hmm? Because could've sworn that you left all your friends in the twentieth century. You left _Peggy_ in the twentieth century when you decided to play hero. I lost the kid. I thought I lost Pepper, and what did you lose?" 

He's quiet for a moment, a long moment, probably another seventy years. "I lost Bucky."

"What?"

"I lost Bucky," he whispers it again. Tony isn't supposed to hear. 

"Oh. _Oh_ ," it's dramatic, still a whisper. Stark should've seen this coming. 

"I lost him _again_ , Tony. Again and again and again and again. I could have stopped it."

"I thought you..."

Steve sighs. "Peggy was beautiful, but so was Bucky. So beautiful. He loved his whiskey and long nights and his country and he would never stay, but I'd always wait. We were always together, but we never talked about it, not once. But we were together. I made a hobby of ducking into bars as I passed, and he made a living out of peeking down alleys. He followed me everywhere. To death, to the end of the line."

**Author's Note:**

> This probably is horrible. No one is going to see this. If you do, don't be too mean because this is me coping.


End file.
